


across the universe

by MiniInfinity



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 13:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10900476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniInfinity/pseuds/MiniInfinity
Summary: Soonyoung builds a small mailbox for strangers to send in mail.





	across the universe

**Author's Note:**

> i'm crying at the [flawless playlist and artwork](https://lessonata.tumblr.com/post/165455260075/across-the-universe-by-miniinfinity) by Alessa for this fic ;;;; please do listen to the playlist while you read along! the first song gets me every time

Thursday welcomes Soonyoung in a cold embrace, one where he would hug his bag of books to his chest closer and sink the tip of his nose deeper into his scarf. He winds his way down the hall, past the entrance doors where wind would tease him with a cool breath, spindling through quick steps of students and swings of locker doors shut. He heads up a flight of stairs and back down another at the other side of the building--because trying to get through the hallway downstairs is overrated and he would rather make his way to his teacher’s class quickly.  
  
Mr. Park’s classroom warms his fingertips and has him pulling the scarf down from his nose. A wooden box sits on the front desk, latch still locked and carvings a little darker from rain trying to seep into it but Mr. Park being too quick and strong to let drops get any deeper.  
  
“Hi, Soonyoung,” Mr. Park greets him from his desk, glancing past the top rims of his glasses and away from a stack of papers in his hands. It’s the same gentle look he has when Soonyoung stepped into his classroom in his freshmen year.  
  
Soonyoung slides the door shut even more before stepping inside and in front of the desk. “It’s Thursday again,” Soonyoung reminds him with a smile he can’t seem to slap off his face.  
  
Mr. Park lays the papers on his desk to run a palm over the box, a dry slide of his hand hissing into the mute and against the rain-patted slab of wood. “The box seems heavier this time.”  
  
Soonyoung places his book bag on the floor to lift the box in his hands and he quickly catches the box from falling because he can’t remember it ever being this heavy before. “I hope I have time to get through all of the before next week.”  
  
“I hope so, too.” Mr. Park spreads papers across his desk as he adjusts his glasses. “And tell me if there are some really interesting ones, too.”  
  
After a _see you tomorrow, maybe, Soonyoung_ from his former teacher, he pulls his hood up and tightens the grip of his book bag in one hand and the box in the other. What he doesn’t like about Thursdays, particularly during this time of the year, is the struggle to keep everything at his fingertips and not falling out from them. What pushes him even harder are the slippery hallways when students rush inside to escape the rain, the harsh and accidental bumps of shoulders when they try to reach to class, the fear that the box will drop from his hands at any second and spill the letters across rain-streaked floors.  
  
He hurries out of the campus and through hard batters of precipitation drumming on every inch of his being. A couple of turns down the sidewalk and sudden dodges of students, he slips under the shelter of the bus stop, sigh forming a ghost of this breath when he realizes that it’s not the usual students waiting under the bus stop with him, that he’s a little late this time.  
  
He shuffles under the roof before sitting down and sighing harder, wondering when the next bus will arrive. The box perches on his lap and his book bag barely holds together shut under the bench, and he resists the urge to open the box right there.  
  
_Only when homework is finished_ , he reminds himself.  
  
The bus fades through sheets of rain a few minutes later and the bus driver greets Soonyoung with a nervous smile. “Traffic has been bad because of the rain.”  
  
Soonyoung shakes his head with a smile that loses his eyes. “It’s okay.”  
  
After slipping in his change, he sits near the exit door with his bags next to him and the box finding its way back on his lap. His fingers play with the latch and this time, he unlocks it and lifts the top.  
  
The box is half-full this time, but it’s a lot more than what he’s gotten in the past couple of weeks, considering the downturn of weather. He pulls the letter sitting at the top of the pile, a big yellow envelope with the school’s address and a simple _House of Mail_ in the center in an almost-typed penmanship. Soonyoung feels the hardness of cardboard under his digits as he carefully hooks a finger under the seal and glides it across, making sure not to write anything except maybe the envelope itself.  
  
He pulls out a black piece of paper in between two pieces of cardboard. A black sheet that sprinkles white when he flips it over, a light of a city held in the palms of darkness.  
  
A white note card drops from the envelope and in a slanted, almost hurried handwriting, _I was stressed from studying, so I looked out the window and drew this instead. Am I getting better at drawing? I think so :)_

  
He puts everything back in the envelope the way it was, even sticking the drawing under the sheets of cardboard.  
  
  
  
He nearly drops his book bag and the box a second time when he steps into his apartment and slips his shoes off. He listens to the television roll the news and his dad asking him right away if he’s hungry.  
  
“Maybe later,” Soonyoung calls out as he organizes his shoes on the rack and drags his book bag across the floor with the box secure against his chest and on his palm.  
  
“Okay, tell me whenever you’re hungry.”  
  
Soonyoung heads for the last room in the dark hallway and opens the door. He flips the light on and the first thing he looks at is the wall of shelves, protecting boxes of various designs and labels. He leaves the box at his study table in front of the window and changes out of his uniform and into pajamas.  
  
He plops himself down at his study and props the box under his seat, pulling the book bag and letting pages, pencils, workbooks spill across the wood.  
  
He places his graphing calculator and math workbook on his table when there’s a knock on the door and his father’s voice echoing right after. “Wait, today is Thursday.” Soonyoung turns his head and looks back at his father with a slight nod. “Did you get any nice letters?”  
  
“I only read one with a drawing,” he says softly and lets his toes poke at the box under the table. “I’ll read them tomorrow after school, I guess.”  
  
His dad nods and mumbles something about cooking dinner in a little bit, “an hour or two before your mom gets home.”  
  
  
Midnight shares a shower with Soonyoung and he pulls a couple of letters from the box before the moon shares a slumber with him.  
  
\----  
  
The unsteady bumps during the Friday bus ride to school keep Soonyoung awake more than the letters in his fists.  
  
_I went to the dentist this week and got my wisdom tooth removed. My friends were there to help me get home and they ended up recording me. The things I said after the removal...I can’t believe those words came from my own mouth. I’m 22 years old, but some of the things I said sounded like they came from a little kid._ _  
_ _  
_ _If you haven’t gotten your wisdom tooth removed, I hope your friends will record what you say. You’ll be surprised, I promise._

  
There’s a smile on Soonyoung’s lips but a lonesome pang in his chest because he wishes he can reply to this letter and tell the sender, _I’m scared already. The dentist told me that I’ll be getting my wisdom tooth removed in a few years but thanks for the advice!_  
  
If only someone has the guts to write down a return address on their letter.  
  
The next letter he does read doesn’t excite him much, but the thought of someone sending it to him does.  
  
_I like to cook._ _  
_ _  
_ _Let me share a recipe with you. It’s spicy, garlic-y fried chicken. If you don’t like any of those flavors or if you don’t even like to cook, then this recipe is useless for you._ _  
_ _  
_ _So for the chicken, you need:_ _  
_ _  
_ _~250g of chicken breast_ _  
_ _½ teaspoon minced ginger_ _  
_ _1 teaspoon soy sauce_  
  
Soonyoung doesn’t need to finish the rest of the letter before deciding that perhaps his father would be more excited to finish reading the rest of this letter.  
  
  
  
At home, he listens to his father mumble the recipe as he sits at the kitchen counter with the box of letters open, a few slips of envelopes spilling from the box. He looks up when his father’s voice is cut off and he watches his dad’s eyes widen.  
  
Soonyoung’s heart starts to race a little because maybe his dad read something that he shouldn’t have and that he would have caught that before if only he read through the entire letter. “What? What happened?” Soonyoung’s own voice shakes as he straightens up in his seat.  
  
“I forgot to buy chicken breast yesterday,” his dad whispers, almost as if it’s the last thing he needed to do in this world.  
  
Soonyoung and his father bask in the laughter echoing in the kitchen. “Oh, I thought it was going to be something bad.”  
  
His dad grabs some tape from the jar of pens and sticky notes stuffed in between at the counter and sticks the letter at the cabinet next to the stove. “I have to keep this to remind me.”  
  
Soonyoung’s giggles die down. “Okay, yeah, go ahead.”  
  
  
Soonyoung has no plans on starting his homework until tomorrow morning. He lets time accompany him with his father, reading through letters, building up piles of which letters his mother would like, which letters his dad likes just by looking at the envelopes, which letters Soonyoung should sort into the boxes in his room.  
  
It’s one in the morning and he and his father are still in the kitchen, shooting conversations between Soonyoung’s school, his father’s work, when will Mom come back from work tonight? His dad starts putting away all of the ingredients he left on the counter and next to the stove before stirring a broth from the seaside. At a deep inhale over the steaming pot, Soonyoung feels sand in his palms dripping dry.  
  
“Maybe I should have cooked rice for this,” his father mumbles before pursing his lips, eyes falling to the unplugged rice cooker and the pot.  
  
“Mom would like it, anyway,” Soonyoung assures him. Because his mother likes anything his father cooks for her.“I would, too.”  
  
The click of the door and a hushed gasp tumbles from the entrance of the apartment. Soonyoung leaves his seat and hurries to hug his mother.  
  
Soonyoung pokes a finger in the air and at the pile of letters he left for his mom on the kitchen table, papers between porcelain bowls of side dishes and a bigger bowl of soup. “I think you’ll like these letters.”  
  
Soonyoung and his father settle at the table as she drapes her coat over the couch and leaves her purse on the coffee table. She sits down at the kitchen table, smiles a thank you, picks up the first letter as she slips a spoonful into her mouth.  
  
“Eating this soup is best with reading the letters,” his mother says to his father, and Soonyoung steals a glance of his father looking down bashfully.  
  
“That one smells like chocolate,” Soonyoung says flatly. “That’s the only reason why I picked it.”  
  
At that, Soonyoung’s mother covers her mouth with the palm of her hand as a laugh escapes through her chewing. “That’s all?” She fans the letter in front of her nose and inhales deeply. “It does smell like chocolate.”  
  
The next letter has his mom’s jaws slowing down until she stops eating altogether. Her eyes focus on the letter alone, even while his father is asking her about work and recalling about his. Soonyoung catches tears brimming in her eyes and puts a palm over hers on the table, right next to the abandoned spoon.  
  
“Read it,” his father suggests.  
  
His mother’s voice is delicate, making sure each word finds its way out of her lips and into their ears.  
  
_I’m going to write down my thoughts but the only thing I have in my mind right now is my university days. That was almost 8 years ago. There was this woman in my class and we were both studying mechanical engineering. I think I loved her. I think I loved her a lot. I always enjoyed going to calculus and physics because of her and she was always ready to tutor me. But besides that, she was very kind. She was so patient with me, even when I couldn’t understand a thing. She was never angry at me, unlike everyone else. She was gentle, too. She never said a bad thing, unless it was to warn me about doing something bad._ _  
_ _  
_ _I thought maybe she loved me, too, because whenever I talked about the future, my future, she always included herself in it. I didn’t mind it. Actually, I loved the idea._ _  
_ _  
_ _But because of fate, we were separated after graduation. She had to go to the States somewhere. What are the chances of me going to America? I can’t even leave the city._ _  
_ _  
_ _I miss her, I really do._ _  
_ _  
_ _Do you get sad love letters like these? I hope I’m not the only one, but at the same time, I do wish I am the only one. I don’t want someone else suffering this way._ _  
_  
Fridays close at around three in the morning, when his mother’s stomach is full and everyone relaxes deeper into their seats. His father gathers all of the dishes and starts washing them as his mother brings her coat and purse to her room with Soonyoung trailing right behind her because “let me carry it, Mom.”  
  
His mom lifts a corner of her lips, but her eyelids weak to blink away the sleepiness. “I can carry it, Soonyoung. The room is not that far.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Soonyoung sighs. “But I hope the man finds her. Don’t you?”  
  
His mother nods and he follows her into the dark bedroom, besides a bed twice as big and fluffier than his own. “I really do. I’ll keep the letter here,” she pats the nightstand, right under the lamplight, “it’s just so sad, but I want to know more.”  
  
After Soonyoung bids his parents goodnight, he heads to his room with the box of letters and sits in front of the bookshelf. He starts dropping them into boxes--one with intricate prints of Paris in a pink box labeled _Pretty Designs_ , the letter than smells like chocolate into an unmarked blue box.  
  
He finds a simple piece of paper at the bottom of the box, one that he didn’t notice before. _I don’t know what to do_ , written in a painful handwriting. A couple of gray dots stray from the words and nothing else. Soonyoung pictures the sender at a table with piles of papers at their desk, ripping a corner from one of the pages and hesitantly grabbing a blunt pencil. The graphite tapping on the paper once, twice, before writing the phrase.  
  
Soonyoung shrugs and places it in a white box labeled regular things about life.  
  
A couple of school flyers manage to slip into the mailbox--join this band, study study study--and he tosses those in his trash bin.  
  
There’s a pale brown envelope stuck between two that Soonyoung can’t recall reading yet. Once he finishes organizes the letters, he takes the envelope and runs a thumb over webs of botany all around, undecipherable and elegant writing in the back, soft touches of pink on crisp petals.  
  
What throws Soonyoung off is the paper under the envelopes, kissed in eraser marks, blurs of handwritten mistakes and ghosts of words that the sender wrote at first but killed them for new, better ones.  
  
_Hi!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I saw the mailbox at school and I thought I should send in a letter for fun. This is a cool idea, I wonder how you came up with it. It would be nice if you can tell me. But if not, it’s okay._ _  
_ _  
_ _Anyway, I go to high school. I like to sing when I’m not studying._ _  
_ _  
_ _I don’t know what else to say._ _  
_ _  
_ _I hope you have a nice day!_  
  
\----  
  
Soonyoung passes by the house of mail perched at the front gates of school. He peeks through the slit at the rooftop and discovers a few letters already dropped in and ready to be read.  
  
As much as his parents told him that the mailbox is cute, he wonders why he designed it that way. What was he thinking when he was building it in the summer?  
  
He starts thinking about the school days after tweaking finishing touches and stroking the last streaks of white paint on the walls, how he pestered Seungkwan and Minghao to advertise it in the newspaper when he managed to slip into the journalism class. How the two agreed only because Soonyoung paid them. How Soonyoung not only got a small patch of advertisement in one newspaper, but an article spot in the front cover on the next issue after that one.  
  
He walks down the hall, right when someone slips an envelope inside.  
  
  
Study hall should be spent on studying, but most of the time, Soonyoung grabs a letter or two and reads them under pages of his workbook.  
  
_Hello there!!_ _  
_ _  
_ _My name is Dohyun and I’m 7 years old. My mom heard about this letter thingy from a friend, so she wants me to learn how to send mail this way._ _  
_ _  
_ _So to send a letter you write your letter first duh_ _  
_ _  
_ _Then you put it in an emvelope_ _  
_ _  
_ _Then you seal the emvelope with your tongue and spit but my mom uses water from the sink because the emvelope tastes kind of bad_ _  
_ _  
_ _Then you put a stamp on it. I like stamps with the little kids on the emvelopes and my mom said not to draw on the emvelope but I wish I can. I want to draw my favorite characters but maybe next time_ _  
_ _  
_ _Then you write the name and address you want to send the mail to in the center_ _  
_  
_You put the stamp in the right corner I think_ _  
_ _  
_ _And your name and address on the left corner_ _  
_ _  
_ _And pop it in the mail and you’re all done!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I got it right right?? My mom tells me that it’s right but she’s not the mailman mailwoman mailmother_ _  
_ _  
_ _But thank you kind person for letting me send a letter to you! I know now how to send letter mails because of you and my parents are happy_  
  
The next letter is from an envelope of the same design, pressed in the same stamp with little kids on chromatic envelopes, but the handwriting is neater, almost in careful calligraphy with decades of practice, precision. But something in the ink makes the entire letter look weaker than it is, frailer in its evaporating blue ink. From the fades in the middle of a character, Soonyoung assumes that the sender wrote it with a fountain pen, one that’s too old to hold onto the ink.  
  
_Hello!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m the grandmother of Dohyun (seven years old), who sent the letter about learning to send mail._ _  
_ _  
_ _I just want to thank you for having something like this available. My grandson is excited to put letters in the mail and now he wants to send packages. Maybe that will be available for you someday?_ _  
_ _  
_ _I was afraid that if I let him send something to his aunt or uncle, they would throw it away. What if he asks them about the letter? I don’t want to feel that kind of sadness so young._ _  
_ _  
_ _I wish you good health and happiness for the new year! Thank you very much again for this learning opportunity for my grandson!_  
  
Between English words and a splatter of formulas, his next letter is the type that he dreads the most, but he can’t help but read.  
  
_I don’t know how old you are, but do your parents stress you to get everything right? Mine do._ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m stressed about exams. My parents make me go to cram school, but I just want to go home. I wish my parents go through this same school system. I want to see them trying to get into the top universities themselves._ _  
_ _  
_ _Give them a time machine, take them back decades ago when they were my age. Then bring them back here to our time._ _  
_ _  
_ _I wonder if they will change their minds._ _  
_  
There’s a weight in Soonyoung’s chest because this isn’t the first time he received letters with this same topic, and he knows that it won’t be the last. He gets a new sheet of paper and starts thinking about ways to reply. How he knows that a lot of parents are forcing the same thing to many others, and how it’s unfair, how everything ends with a grade. It takes him a while before realizing that he can’t send his reply back. He sits back and flips through his workbook, not exactly focusing on the numbers in the pages, but not exactly doing something non-academic.  
  
A poke stirs him back to work. “Hey, are you okay?” his friend behind him asks.  
  
Soonyoung sighs, says something about, “it’s a lot to memorize,” watches a student take an empty desk closer to the windows.  
  
\----  
  
Another Thursday passes with the heavy box in his hands and light drops against his backpack. Soonyoung finds another brown envelope in the pile, the one he stacked in his folder to read on the way home.  
  
_Hi again!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I ate doenjangjjigae after so long and it tasted even better since my mom cooked it. Do you like doenjangjjigae too?_ _  
_ _  
_ _My friend recommended me this song and I can’t stop singing it. It’s called “Still Standing There” by Standing Egg. Lots of standing. Do you know the song?_ _  
_ _  
_ _I hope you have a nice day and sleep well!_  
  
The second one maps its way across the country and he wonders how people from so far know about this. How did they read about his mailbox?  
  
He gets another one recommending something called “Kimi No Na Wa” and makes a mental note to look that up later.  
  
The last letter he left in his folder is from the artist again, a splash of morning in the weakest of Earth’s time. When drops of orange fill the black.  
  
_Since i drew nighttime before, i might as well draw daytime? Which is better? Both are good :)_  
  
At night, it’s the song he listens to before he goes to sleep.  
  
\----  
  
It takes Soonyoung another three weeks to get back to reading the letters. On the bus ride to school, he gets another pale brown envelope in his hands.  
  
_Hi again!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I haven’t written in a while because I’ve been studying for exams. Are you studying for exams, too? I know you’ll do well for sure!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I hope you have a nice day and pass your exams!_  
  
Soonyoung pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and starts replying, even though he knows that it won’t make it to the other side.  
  
_Hi there!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I was studying for exams, too, so I had to push back reading letters. I only read them when I start falling asleep while studying. They keep me awake, especially yours!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m taking the CSATs in a few days...I should be studying, but I love reading letters._ _  
_ _  
_ _Anyway, I know you’ll do well on your exams!_ _  
_ _  
_ _Study hard!_ _  
_  
The last line makes him want to throw up because it’s the same words that everyone tells him and it’s the same words that sends him to tears more times than not. He deletes the last two words to save himself some tears if he ever does go back to this reply.  
  
_My first letter said “I don’t know what to do.” But I think I do now._ _  
_ _  
_ _School is just too much. I know CSATs are coming close, but no one cares how stressful it is. Except maybe you. That is, if you do read my letter._ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m not trying to get attention. I just want someone to understand._  
  
  
He doesn’t sit with his friends at lunch, but he does tell them that he needs to ask about workbook pages with his teacher. But he runs straight to Mr. Park and slips the letter across his desk.  
  
The classroom feels more empty the longer he sits at a stranger’s desk. The person’s desk holds a pencil case, stickers littering the metal and Soonyoung wonders what if one day, this desk won’t have that pencil case anymore, despite the school year is still going. What if one day, the attendance sheet has one name less than before? What if it’s not because the student moved to a new school, but moved even farther away?  
  
Soonyoung doesn’t notice the tears in his eyes, nor the hiccuping in his voice, the way he tries to still his breath only to gasp for even more air. He doesn’t notice Mr. Park’s palm rubbing his back nor his previous teacher’s arms around his shoulders.  
  
He leaves school quieter than usual, eyes pinker than before.  
  
\----  
  
Soonyoung never felt so much comfort in silence. The silence of reading a new letter, _The counselors are nice to me. At least it seems like they understand._  
  
Mr. Park lets him sit in the classroom before school and during lunch. He even lets Soonyoung stay during study hall because when he’s around other students, the picture of one of them sending in that letter hurts him.  
  
He doesn’t know if it’s better that he doesn’t know who is sending him that letter.  
  
\----  
  
Soonyoung hops off the bus early today. He doesn’t know why the bus is early today; perhaps traffic isn’t as congested as usual, but he wouldn’t be able to notice, anyway, with a study guide on his lap.  
  
Mr. Park hands him the box today, even though he’s been waiting to get it in his hands tomorrow. “I just thought you might want to have it a little early today.”  
  
His smile grows at the pale brown envelope peeking from the bottom of the pile.  
  
_Hi again!_ _  
_ _  
_ _Exams are finally over (at least for my class)!_ _  
_ _  
_ _But sometimes I wonder if you do read my letters. It’s hard to know, you know? Since you don’t reply back. Do you reply back to other people? Maybe you do, just not to me. It’s okay if it’s like that. Is it because I don’t send a return address?_ _  
_ _  
_ _I hope you have a nice day and relax after exams!_  
  
There’s a letter with neat handwriting, highlighted lines across parts of the page, but he doesn’t understand a thing. He tells himself to drop it in the box with pretty designs when he gets home.

  
  
When he gets home, it’s the last letter he meant to read at school that he read first when his mother comes home. It’s been a while since last saw the stamp with the flag on it, since he last saw red, almost angry letters on an  envelope. But he thought he should wait a little longer for his mother.  
  
_I’m going to write down my thoughts again (I’m the man who was separated from a woman back in my college days). I’ve been crying. I don’t know why I’ve been crying lately...why now and not before? But I am._ _  
_ _  
_ _I was cleaning up my apartment because it was my day off. I found old pictures of her. Maybe that’s why I’m crying lately._ _  
_ _  
_ _Has love hurt you this way before? I pray that it doesn’t and never will._ _  
_  
His mother keeps the letter at her nightstand, right on top of the last one.  
  
\----  
  
_Hi again!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I think I got sick, which means I won’t be able to sing. Stay warm and drink lots of water and take medicine!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I hope you have a nice day and don’t catch the flu!_  
  
Even after reading the letters from the pale brown envelope, it’s hard for him to keep his mind from wondering if the student is doing well, if the counselors are helping him, if the counselors are still helping him.  
  
The second letter of the day he reads makes his morning a little brighter. The black ink, strikethroughs at the wrong words, would have told him otherwise if he never bothered to read it at all.  
  
_So I work at a flower shop and it's wonderful most of the time. There are some customers that piss me off because they have very specific arrangements, but when I put together the flowers, some of them give a disgusted face. Or they think the flowers are ugly when they’re the ones they asked for? I'm trying to help them, okay? Some customers were close on grabbing the bouquet and throwing it somewhere. I don't know, those are moments where I don't like working at a flower shop._ _  
_ _  
_ _But I will tell you a story about what I like about working at a flower shop._ _  
_ _  
_ _So there was a first-time customer there. I can tell because when he walked in, he just kept staring at the flowers, even after just one step into the shop. He was hesitating on taking further steps in. Maybe he was thinking that he'd knock some stuff over? He was so amazed at the colors and I thought he was pretty cute. He looked so innocent with wonder in his eyes._ _  
_ _  
_ _I was about to ask him what I can do to help him until he started sneezing. At first, I thought it was weird because there were also flowers outside and did he not sneeze from those?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Anyway, I started laughing, which was mean of me, but the customer started laughing, too, when he was not sneezing. So after I told my coworker that I'd help this guy, I took a box of tissues I keep at the register and brought him outside and away from the flowers. Then he told me that it's the first time that happened. I saw his eyes watering and that's when I told him that maybe he's allergic to flowers._ _  
_ _  
_ _I don't know. I just wanted to share this story with you._ _  
_ _  
_ _If you'd like some flowers, maybe you can put up a sign on the mailbox to let me know? I’d be happy to send you some._ _  
_ _  
_ _With as much love as I have flowers,_ _  
_ _Flower Shop Guy_  
  
\----  
  
Winter break passes by with Soonyoung lying in bed or heading out somewhere with friends. It’s not because he doesn’t want to spend his days with his parents during the very rare times he’s away from school. It’s because his parents are too busy during this time of year, working later, longer hours now that they don’t have to worry about preparing meals for Soonyoung when he gets home from school or if he forgot this textbook or that pen or his school ID card.  
  
He doesn’t have access to the mailbox during the winter break, so Soonyoung takes off of the letters he had in the box already and left another box in case someone thought about sending one in.  
  
After winter break, Mr. Park passes the wooden box over and Soonyoung nearly drops it. Mr. Park places a small red box on top of the wooden one in Soonyoung’s arms once he gets a good hold of it.  
  
“There’s this box next to the mailbox when I went to get it this morning.  
  
  
When he gets home, the first one he opens is the little box. Folded stars rest inside glass of a jar and a familiar pale brown envelope right under.  
  
_Merry Christmas!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I don’t know when you’ll get this, but happy holidays, anyway! I hope you have a nice break from school and hopefully with your family? My parents and sister are working all winter break, so I’m alone at home with my dog. It’s a Maltese, in case you’re wondering. I’m just going to stay home and prepare for school, or hang out with friends when I’m not doing that._ _  
_ _  
_ _I had a lot of star paper and decided to use them all hehe._ _  
_ _  
_ _Again, I hope you have a nice vacation and stay warm!_  
  
Soonyoung opens the jar, poking at the origami and wondering why someone would send him--a mere stranger--something that would take a lot of time to do. Soonyoung opens the wooden box after and wonders why the box is fuller than usual, since school was out.  
  
_I'm the man who was separated from a woman I loved back in my college days._ _  
_ _  
_ _But today, I thought I saw her on the street on my drive back to work. I stopped at a red light and looked around because there's nothing else better to do at a red light. But I looked at the coffee shop next to me and I thought it was her._ _  
_ _  
_ _I wish it was her._ _  
_ _  
_ _Maybe I'm just hallucinating._  
  
_Nevermind, I think love does that a lot._  
  
He leaves a letter with maps across papers for his mom and a blueprint of an airplant for his dad.  
  
\----  
  
The empty seat in his class is filled in with a familiar face, yet battered in a few scratches. The smile on his face is shy, as if he has never been in this classroom before.  
  
There’s a jump in his heart and a tear in his eye and he doesn’t really know why. The student might be the one. He’s not sure. He’s just glad for him to come back.  
  
\----  
  
_Hi again!_ _  
_ _  
_ _I haven't been feeling well lately. Not because I'm sick (I'm actually feeling a lot better now. I only have a runny nose and I can sing! My voice is nasal, though), but because I think about how you have so many letters (I peek in the mailbox sometimes and I always see a pretty big pile of letters in there) and how people would talk about their days and problems (or maybe it's just me). You have the lives of others under your fingertips, maybe you know things that they can't even tell the people they say they're close to._ _  
_ _  
_ _Maybe you smudged the ink or graphite while you read the letters. Or maybe the sender was crying while they were writing the letter for you._ _  
_ _  
_ _Writing out your thoughts is said to help you organize and spill your emotions. At least, it's better than keeping them all locked in your mind. Do you think about how many people you're helping just by letting them write and send their letters without you knowing who they are? You don't have to look at a person in a different light because you don't know the person, you only know the person in the letter._ _  
_ _  
_ _Do you sometimes think about the lives behind the letters? Someone who sent a sad letter yesterday might not be sad anymore. Another person who talked about doing one thing later got it done after sending their letter saying that they will do it._ _  
_ _  
_ _You've read through the lives of many, yet how many people are you letting read yours?_  
  
_The most important question is, how are you lately? I really do hope you're doing well. It's okay if I never get an answer._ _  
_ _  
_ _I just hope you know that someone out there is willing to read your letters._  
  
Soonyoung reads the letter through blurry vision, an invisible pat on his back, and a struggle to keep his breathing steady. He cries, brings his knees to his chest and muffles his voice with the cloth of his pajamas, until he can’t keep quiet anymore. His voice is hanging by a thread and he lets it snap and his lungs let go.  
  
He doesn’t recognize his own voice; it’s been a while since he cried out loud. It’s been a while since anyone asked him how he’s doing.  
  
He doesn’t notice the door opening and it takes him a lot longer to notice the warmth of his mother’s arms around his shoulders. Her hand soothes the top of his head, like she always did so many years ago, following the rhythm of his rocking body on the study chair, and asks him what’s wrong.  
  
He shakes his head, forehead still buried in her arms. “No, nothing. Someone...someone asked me how I’m doing.”  
  
He lets his mother read the letter when he finally inhales deeply and wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands, albeit smudged with ink and graphite. His mother keeps an arm around his shoulder as she reads the letter.  
  
“It’s a pity that you don’t know who this person is,” is all she says when she returns the letter.  
  
Soonyoung cards through all of the letters with the pale brown envelope and stores them in a red tin box, one that used to store mooncakes but his mother found no other use for the box when his family finished eating them all. But he keeps tonight’s letter in his pencil case. Somewhere close in reach so he can open it anytime of the day, so he can remind himself that someone wants to know how he is.  
  
\----

He gulps down a cup of juice for breakfast as he reads a letter, but all of his breakfast nearly shot out of his throat before he even gets to the end. His father pats his back when he starts coughing, doubling over in laughter with his son as Soonyoung chokes on the last clinging drops of apple juice at the wrong side of his throat.

  
_I hope you don't get any other letters from people who work at flower shops, but I laughed at the customer because we figured out he really is allergic to flowers._ _  
_ _  
_ _Anyway, I bought him a fake red tulip because I’m cheesy like that. But out of any moment I forget the meanings of flowers, it was that moment when I was out buying it for him. I didn’t buy it from the shop I work at...we don’t sell fake flowers._ _  
_ _  
_ _But I gave it to him and he accepted it._ _  
_ _  
_ _If I ever figure out who you are, maybe I’ll send you a flower?_

 

 _With as much love as I have flowers,_ _  
_ _Flower Shop Guy_  
  
\----  
  
There’s a hop in Soonyoung’s steps as he walks to school, a smirk in his face as he finishes writing one paper, a raise in his laugh when he’s around his friends during lunch breaks.  
  
The only thing stopping Soonyoung is the looming fact that he can’t send a letter back.  
  
At home, Soonyoung pulls out the red tin and his own letter set--chicks and baby ducks lining across the light blue--and starts to write a reply, even if he knows that he doesn’t know the person at the other side of the paper.  
  
_Hey there!_ _  
_ _  
_ _My name is Soonyoung and I own the mailbox at the school._ _  
_ _  
_ _I hope I can help you feel better by telling you that I do think about the people behind the letters. It’s just the thought that people feel better after sending me their letters is something that never got to me before._  
  
Soonyoung pauses, pencil hanging right above paper, not really knowing what to write next. Then he turns back to the boxes on his shelf, at the dark but still visible corner of his room. Each box housing dozens of letters, most from different people, from different places. Yet somehow, they all decided to send a letter to the same location to the same stranger.  
  
He pictures people sitting down somewhere and writing letters to a stranger without even knowing if the stranger will read or even touch the letters. What were on their minds while writing him letters? Of course, it’s what they write down on paper. But do people stop and hesitate to write? Are there some things they still hold back, despite being only judged by words on a piece of paper with no return address, no name?  
  
After a while, Soonyoung places his pencil back down to store his own letters in the red tin.  
  
\----  
  
_Hi! My name is Seokmin._ _  
_ _  
_ _I go to the school where the mailbox is located. Maybe you go to the same school? I thought so because if you don’t, then why would you pick this school to put the mailbox in?_ _  
_ _  
_ _If you don’t go to the school, then this is awkward…_ _  
_ _  
_ _Anyway, I hope you have a nice day and read some happy letters!_  
  
At lunch, he waves his friends goodbye and heads straight to his one friend with a camera in his hand. Mingyu doesn’t wander far from where he usually hangs out, but Soonyoung runs across the school just to find the giant with another friend.  
  
“Mingyu, I need you to look someone up,” Soonyoung says, taking Mingyu’s camera from his hand and taking even deeper breaths to stop his lungs from burning.  
  
Mingyu tries to grab for the camera before Soonyoung drops it. “Give me the camera back first.”  
  
He doesn’t know how much access Mingyu has to the student directory, but he realizes he doesn’t need to use it when Mingyu sits down at the computer, Soonyoung asks for a Seokmin, and Mingyu just sighs.  
  
“Oh, he’s in my class. We’re in the same year.” Soonyoung slumps against Mingyu’s shoulder because why did he have to run so far to find Mingyu and the computer lab when Mingyu already knew this Seokmin? “He smiles a lot. It’s tiring, but a good tiring.”  
  
\----  
  
_I'm the man who was separated from a woman I loved back in my college days._ _  
_ _  
_ _It's the first time I held her hand in 8 years._ _  
_ _  
_ _I hope this beautiful kind of love finds its way to you._  
  
He sits at the couch with his mother, a hand in hers, and wonders how long it has been since she let tears of happiness drip from her cheeks.  
  
\----  
  
“I’ll be getting the letters today,” Soonyoung waves to Mr. Park as he passes his door.  
  
“But it’s Friday?”  
  
  
Soonyoung kneels down at the mailbox and turns it so that the little door at the back is facing him. The key in his fingers fit in the lock, but he has to pull hard to open it.  
  
_How does Mr. Park open this thing?_  
  
A shadow falls on the roof of the mailbox and Soonyoung only looks up when there’s a voice asking him, “Did you make this?” Soonyoung stands up, dusting his knees off, without even opening the mailbox yet or turning to the person, and slightly nods.  
  
The boy’s mouth is moving up and down, as if trying to find the right words to say. The boy’s cheeks are turning a flustered red, his fingers clenching and uncurling. Soonyoung doesn’t let the boy grasp onto the right words when he catches a familiar brown letter in the boy’s hands, reads the name tag hanging from his uniform, and Soonyoung doesn’t stop himself from hugging the boy.  
  
Seokmin’s arms are around Soonyoung’s shoulders right away, as if they’ve known each other for so long, as if this is something they’ve always been used to. Because even though Soonyoung only knows the Seokmin through the letters, Soonyoung thinks he knows Seokmin a little more than most.  
  
\----  
  
Soonyoung finally has the wooden box in his hands, after Seokmin pries the door open in one swift move that left Soonyoung’s lips agape.  
  
“Where did you get the idea from?” Seokmin asks as they walk down to the gates of the school.  
  
Soonyoung shrugs because he really doesn’t remember. “I don’t know, it just kind of happened.” Soonyoung’s ears warm up at his next question. “Do you want to come over and read some letters?”  
  
He knows it’s way too early to be asking Seokmin to come over. They haven’t known each other for long, but Soonyoung knows he can trust Seokmin, he can tell him anything.  
  
The bus ride with Seokmin is a quiet comfort, one where Seokmin sits at the aisle seat and sometimes bumps his shoulder against Soonyoung’s. Soonyoung has the box on his lap and Seokmin still holds onto his single letter. After one road bump, Seokmin opens the box and slips his letter inside.  
  
There’s a soft smile on Soonyoung’s face the entire bus ride home and there’s no need for words.  
  
  
His father doesn’t say anything about Seokmin, except for to just to tell him whenever they’re hungry and that he’d be ready to cook anything for them. Seokmin just smiles and mutters a shy thank you before following Soonyoung to his room.  
  
Soonyoung drops a path of his school belongings on the way to his study, but Seokmin lingers at the bookshelf of boxes, labels, letters, the lives of strangers pressed on dead leaves and dry ink and smeared graphite.  
  
Seokmin shoulders jolt a slight when Soonyoung destroys the wall of silence. “Do you want to read them?”  
  
Seokmin nods.  
  
Soonyoung walks away from the bookshelf, back to his desk, and hands Seokmin a red tin box.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Baek Yerin's [Across the Universe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQuqs2LrXbo)
> 
> it's a simpler writing style this time because i really wanted to post a story with that plot but dsljaljkfjglkjdfg
> 
> anyway i hoped you enjoyed this! c:


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